


when i come back to reality it's still you

by spndrea



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Violence, Not Really Character Death, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, the whole package
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spndrea/pseuds/spndrea
Summary: It’s been four days, twenty-one hours and forty-three minutes since the news of Taemin’s death had rung through Jongin’s deserted apartment. It’s been four days, twenty-one hours and forty-twominutes since Jongin should’ve probably driven to a hospital to stitch up the deep cut left by his dropped ceramic mug instead of numbly staring at the TV while the warm blood pooled around his right foot.





	when i come back to reality it's still you

It’s been four days, twenty-one hours and forty-three minutes since the news of Taemin’s death had rung through Jongin’s deserted apartment. It’s been four days, twenty-one hours and forty- _two_ minutes since Jongin should’ve probably driven to a hospital to stitch up the deep cut left by his dropped ceramic mug instead of numbly staring at the TV while the warm blood pooled around his right foot.

It’s been that long, and Jongin’s foot hasn’t healed yet. Jongin didn’t think of it as bad, though, because neither has he, after all.

_Heal, suffer, pain._

It’s not healthy to count, Jongin knows. It’s not healthy to know the exact time when the monotonous voice of the female news-reporter reverberated through his ears even from where he was standing on the freezing tiles in the kitchen, announcing a cold _“Exposed Secret Agent Lee Taemin found dead in his suite in Daegu, cause of death apparently being a shot to the chest accompanied with multiple hits over the head. Stay tuned for updates on the case here on Channel-“_

The rest fell on deaf ears, Jongin only recalling the warmth his foot was suddenly enveloped in and the dull pain in his knees when he dropped onto them, missing the sharp shards of ceramic by a hair's breadth.

_Pain, hurt, pain, pain, pain, painpleasestop._

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, Jongin childishly thinks now, staring at himself through the broken mirror in the bathroom, the hot sting of where there were small shards of glass stuck in his knuckles matching his pulsating foot. Taemin was supposed to be _safe._ He’d _promised_ he’d-

It was wishful thinking, always has been. Taemin couldn’t promise anything, couldn’t promise he’d be _safe._ Not when they didn’t even walk around the city in broad daylight, Jongin never bothering to ask why until now, suddenly, he knew.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, but Jongin knew that it was foolish to fall for Taemin’s promises. Soft lips pushing against his own and warm hands cupping his cheeks made him want to believe every single word that had ever come out of Taemin’s mouth, though, and Jongin ignored how reality had begun creeping up on him from the day he’d started talking to Taemin.

_Wish, hope, want._

~~-~~

Jongin had been walking by a run-down club blaring outdated music at two in the morning when he’d first met Taemin, shivers coursing through his body with every blow of wind that ruffled his thin sweater and the rips in his jeans. He studied the scenery around him; the neon lights of the club throwing deteriorated shadows to the pavement and the shouts of drunk people resonating through the otherwise silent streets.

Normally, when he’d walk by a dark alley and hear ominous sounds coming from it, Jongin would pick up his pace and continue walking, forcing himself to cast his gaze forward and not towards the source of the noise.

This time, though, his steps faltered and his head turned instinctively, eyes focusing on the alley only illuminated by a broken, flickering street light. He concentrated on the nearly inaudible scratches against gravel, and Jongin would've probably marked it off as some raccoon searching for food if it hadn't been for the reoccurring gasping breaths piercing his ears.

Everything inside of Jongin told him to _get the fuck away, are you planning on getting killed?_ but, somehow, his hand raised his phone to turn on a flashlight, illuminating the dark street more than the broken light could.

Jongin would like to say he was prepared for anything – especially to get hit over the head with a broken bottle or _at_ _least_ a baseball bat – but when he saw a man covered in blood on the dirty ground trying desperately to get to his feet, Jongin _really_ didn’t know how he could’ve expected _that._

“Fuck, man, are you okay?” Jongin called, keeping his phone slightly angled away from the stranger to avoid blinding him.

Jongin’s steps haltered when the other’s head snapped up, pained gaze meeting his and one hand slipping against the crimson-dyed concrete. The man opened his mouth to let out a stifled cough. “I’m good,” he rasped, some blood starting to trickle down his chin from where it pooled behind his bottom lip, and Jongin would’ve laughed if the situation were any different.

“You _really_ don’t look good, though.” Jongin started to step closer again, soles crushing what must have been shards of broken bottles littering the ground.

“I said,” the guy started again, seemingly desperate to make his voice sound as steady as possible, “I’m _fine._ You can back off.” He supported the last statement with a move to get up, pushing himself back on his knees before jerkily getting to his feet, wincing at the forceful action and grabbing his ribcage.

Jongin watched with a bewildered gaze, barely managing to take the last steps separating him from the other when his knees started to buckle dangerously. Jongin had half the mind to wonder _what the fuck he was doing,_ holding a blood-covered stranger by the waist to steady him from falling to the concrete again in a dark alley at _half past two in the goddamn morning, what the fuck, Jongin-_

“I can stand on my own,” the man currently supporting his whole body-weight on his shoulder snapped, trying to push Jongin away.

“You were lying in your own blood, so no, you can’t fucking stand. What happened to you?” Jongin asked, voice laced with something akin to worry, shuffling his feet a bit, not feeling sure about what he should do now.

“Just some bar fight, y’know? That club is fuckin’ trash,” the other muttered, ending the sentence with a choked off chuckle that left him wincing again, holding his hand against his torso a bit tighter.

Jongin huffed out a breath in disbelief but didn’t bother asking why he was left alone in a back-alley, figuring there wasn’t much he would be getting out of the stranger. “Where do you live?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where do you-“

“Yeah, I heard you, but why the fuck do you wanna know that?”

Jongin turned his head to look at the other’s profile, eyes catching on the thick smear of blood adorning his cheekbone and the open wound splitting through his right eyebrow, his busted lip still letting crimson drip from it. “You look like you have more than one concussion, so if you think I’m gonna leave you to walk alone when you can’t even _stand,_ then you’re wrong. I’m not gonna make myself responsible for you stumbling in front of a car or something.”

Jongin nearly startled back when the man turned his head towards him, blonde hair messily falling over his eyes and getting stuck in the mess on his face. After a few beats of silence, he looked away again, casting his gaze to the gravel and switching his weight from one leg to the other. “I, uh, I can’t really go home. If my roommate sees me like _this,_ he’s gonna send me to some way-too-expensive hospital, and I really can’t pay for that. So, thanks, but no thanks for taking me home, it’s-“

“Alright,” Jongin cut him off, huffing slightly as he tried to take a few steps with the additional weight resting against his body, “then I’m taking you over to mine. It’s either that or _I’ll_ knock you out and take you to that hospital.”

 

“You threatening to punch me isn’t gaining you much trust, you know,” the other rasped, sniffling a bit before wincing at the strong stench of blood.

Jongin just let out a hum, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards as he watched the other let out a stifled sigh – painfully aware of his probably-broken ribs – before making an aborted attempt in stepping forward. Jongin tightened the hold he had on his waist and started walking forth in an apparently too-slow pace for the stranger, if the short scoff and the pull against Jongin’s arm was anything to go by.

The walk was quiet, only filled with the occasional swallowed hiss coming from the man next to Jongin and the leaves rustling with the warm wind blowning through them.

_Quiet, peace, sorrow._

Jongin passed through the dark streets with a frown plastered on his face, silently wondering why the hell he was dragging a bruised stranger towards his home, mentally already coming up with a plan on how to escape if he turns out to be a serial killer. Still, he kept walking, taking most of the man’s weight onto him – which wasn’t a lot, Jongin would’ve been worried if he’d known the man any better – and hummed some nameless song that was stuck in his head.

The light of the porch came into view after thirty minutes induced with heavy sighs on both Jongin’s side for having to carry an added weight and also on the other’s for whenever Jongin grabbed his side _too_ hard, accidentally crushing his probably already-broken ribs.

As soon as Jongin managed to climb the three stairs leading to the door, he let the man go for a moment, leaving him to lean against the wall of the building heavily while he tried to find his keys in his jacket. Once he felt the cold metal against his fingers, he moved to open the door with one arm, the other reaching to pull the guy still resting against the dirty wall back into him.

Jongin sent silent blessings to the architects that decided to build in an elevator in the otherwise ratty apartment complex he lived in, or else he would’ve had the pleasure of dragging the other man up three stories until they reached Jongin’s apartment. The harsh lights of the elevator made Jongin squint his eyes slightly while he listened to the seemingly too-loud sounds of it being moved upwards.

Jongin managed to stumble through the door of his apartment more or less gracefully for someone who had to balance both a body on one side and the weight of the door on the other. He heaved a deep sigh followed by a raspy groan once he heard the heavy door fall shut behind them, leaving the place illuminated by only the dull orange glow of the street lamps outside. He searched blindly for the light switch, squinting against the bright light filling the small apartment once he found it.

Jongin moved further into the room, internally debating on whether he should plop the stranger down on his white couch and risk getting blood stains on the fabric, or if he should drag them both into the bathroom at the end of the hallway. He quickly decided on the latter, definitely not keen on having to scrub someone else’s blood out of his soft couch. Besides, his first-aid kit was in the bathroom, anyway, as well as flowing clean water.

The bathroom was cramped, Jongin having sat down the other man on the toilet seat while he himself was searching the cabinets for the first-aid kit, and every time Jongin would move his leg a bit too far to the right, it would brush against the stranger’s knee. Jongin already had some problems moving around in here when he was alone, so having a second person with him was making things increasingly difficult, the size of a bathroom of a college student only making money off his job at the local library not really being luxurious. 

_Close, close, closenospace._

Jongin tried not to let out an embarrassing triumphant sound when he felt his fingers brush against the first-aid kit resting on the very top shelf of the cabinet, immediately moving to set it down on the counter before opening it.

“We gotta treat your wounds, I guess,” Jongin mumbled absentmindedly, trying to recall anything he’d picked up in his first-aid course he’d taken in high school. He doused a cotton ball in some disinfectant stuff, turning to look at the other, only to see him with his head resting against the wall, eyes following Jongin’s every movement with the alertness of someone crossing the street at rush-hour.

When their gazes locked, the other didn’t look away, didn’t even seem to _blink,_ and Jongin shook his head slightly when he felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up before moving forward reluctantly, raising the cotton ball to dab at the most prominent wound starting from a seemingly deep cut in his left eyebrow, which faded into mere reddened scratches running over the majority of the left part of his face.

Jongin went to clean the messy cut distressing the full pink lips of the other next, wiping off the blood that had flowed from the wound and probably also his mouth at one point. It startled Jongin slightly when he heard the man clear his throat, the raspy sound filling the small space before he started to mumble into the silence. “I still don’t know why you’re doing this. You don’t know me, I could be some murderer for all you know.”

It made Jongin chuckle a bit, because, yeah, he really could be. “Don’t talk, you’re gonna rip open your lip again,” he said then, smile grazing his lips. “And, well, I guess I can’t just walk away from some bloody stranger on the verge of passing out in a dirty back-alley. Guess that makes me a savior to the drug addicts in this city.” Then, after pausing for a few seconds, he added, “you’re not some heroin-junky, right?”

Jongin watched entranced as the other laughed, a wheezing sound accompanied with his head lolling to the side. “No, I’m not some overdosed druggie about to decompose in your bathroom, don’t worry,” he said, voice overtaken by a lightness that was new to Jongin’s ears, the small uplift of his lips and the slight crinkle of his eyes still overtaking his features.

Jongin felt his own face contort into a grin. “I’m happy about that, I think.” Jongin went to grab a new cotton ball, applying some new disinfectant on it before he realized something. “What’s your name, though? ‘Cause if you really _do_ end up murdering me, I at least want to know your name.”

There seemed to be a second of hesitation, a slight pause in which Jongin stroked the small cotton ball over the other’s split lip, oddly focused on the way blood started to seep through the clean white. Then, the rough sound of a raspy intake of breath sounded, followed by, “I’m Taemin. Lee Taemin.”

_Taemin._ Jongin silently repeated the name in his head. _Lee Taemin._

“I’m Kim Jongin, and now stop talking! Your lip’s bleeding again,” Jongin stated, exasperation useless with the smile still on his lips.

“You asked me a question, what do you-“

Jongin cut him off by pushing the cotton ball to his mouth, only receiving a muffled sound of protest from the other at the strong stench of alcohol. Once the wound seemed to have stopped dripping crimson again, Jongin nodded his head, looking Taemin over.

“Your face is fine, I think. Your ribs seemed pretty fucked, though. Can you even stand on your own?” Jongin’s tone was quiet, concerned. Taemin seemed to roll his eyes, setting his hands on the counter next to him to support himself before attempting to stand up. Jongin saw the immediate wince formed on his face, though overshadowed by the intent look of determination glinting in his eyes, un-split part of his lip worried between his teeth.

Jongin was about to steady him, hand already coming up to rest around his waist, but he halted his movement when he saw Taemin take a deep breath and shake his head before pushing himself upright, some strands of matted hair falling from where they were tucked behind his ears. Jongin winced at the ugly cracking noise resonating from his rib-area.

Taemin's chest was heaving, each breath aborted before air could thoroughly fill his lungs, hands twitching where they were resting limply against his sides, clearly resisting the urge to hold onto the ceramic counter to take the weight off his body.

“God,” Jongin sighed, running a hand through his messed-up hair, “I haven’t even _seen_ your ribs and know they’re broken. Sit down, unbutton your shirt.”

“What are you, a doctor?” Taemin scoffed, but did as he was told, surprisingly, fingers deftly working on the remaining few buttons holding his white shirt closed once he sat back down on the toilet lid. He eyed Jongin conspicuously when he let out a hum.

“My mom was. Spent, like, half my childhood hanging around the hospital watching her run around.” Jongin’s eyes followed the movement of Taemin’s pale fingers as they popped open the last button and let the shirt fall open, revealing fresh scratches and bruises littering the expanse of Taemin’s lean torso.

The most attention-grabbing were definitely the dark bruises coloring the right side of where Taemin's skin was stretched over his visible ribs, though, marking the otherwise pale complexion a deep bluish-purple. Jongin raised his hand, faltering slightly before letting the tips of his fingers faintly brush over where the bruise was darkest, though immediately pulling back upon seeing Taemin's muscles tense up and hearing him swallow down what would have been a sharp intake of air.

Jongin sighed, brows furrowing. “Alright, I know I said I won’t make you visit a hospital, but your ribs are _broken,_ you can’t just walk around like _this-_ “

Taemin cut him off with a light kick to the shin, making Jongin look up from where his gaze was still fixed on the bruise. “Jongin,” he started, voice soft but still able to render Jongin speechless at the simple mention of his name. “Believe me when I tell you I’ve had worse, and those times I didn’t even have anyone finding me in a dirty alley. Just, I don’t know, give me an ice pack and some Ibuprofen and I’ll be good to go.”

Jongin blinked a few times, desperately trying to understand Taemin. “Just _what_ has happened to you before?” He asked with what would have been an amused voice had it not been for the frown shadowing over his expression.

“You don’t wanna know,” was what he got in return, the low voice muffled from where Taemin has moved to stare down at his dirty sneakers, one foot scrubbing against the dried-up imprint of what must’ve been his own blood staining the white fabric of the other shoe.

Jongin let the silence curl around them for a bit, leaving only the low hum of the bathroom light and Taemin’s forcefully controlled breaths fill the small space. Jongin cleared his throat then, looking back at Taemin.

“I’m not gonna make you stay, I’m not _actually_ a serial killer,” he began, making Taemin snort softly before looking back at Jongin, “but _please_ don’t let me – or _anyone,_ for that matter – find you nearly passed out somewhere in the city again.”

Taemin kept his gaze intent on Jongin, eyes traveling over his face even as Jongin moved to get up from kneeling in front of Taemin. He absentmindedly cringed at the soreness of his knees, but quickly collected himself when he took notice of the harsh bruise resting against Taemin's pale torso once again.

He helped Taemin get up, the gesture answered with an exaggerated eye-roll and an indistinct mumble under the other’s breath. Jongin got the ice and a full pack of some painkillers he once got prescribed when he’d turned his ankle while dancing, returning to where Taemin had already moved towards the door.

Taemin took the two things gratefully, immediately popping out a pill and swallowing it dry. Jongin watched the way his Adam’s apple moved with the action.

"Well, thanks, I guess. For not letting me lie passed out for anyone else to find," Taemin then rasped, lips pulling into a slight smile.

Jongin chuckled. “No problem, you made my night a lot more interesting than it would’ve been.”

Jongin didn’t think about how that sentence would sound before he saw Taemin’s smile turn into a grin, eyebrows arching up. “A lot more interesting, huh?”

Jongin glanced away. “Oh, shut up, you know what I mean,” he mumbled, hoping the orange hue coming from the overhead lights didn’t make the reddening of his cheeks too apparent.

“I think I do,” Taemin responded, grabbing the door handle behind him, “my night’s been better today, too.”

Jongin resisted the urge to mention that he was beaten bloody and bruised, settling for simply mirroring Taemin’s smile.

Taemin turned to open the door, ice pack clasped between his chest and arm, and Jongin found it hard to turn the other way.

“Wait, Taemin,” he started, knowing full well his next sentence would be a whole train wreck, “let me give you my number, so you can, uh, text me when you get home. So I’ll know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. Or, you know, so you have someone to call if you, uh, ever end up needing someone to disinfect your wounds again. Or something.”

Taemin’s grin widened, eyes creasing up slightly. “ _Or something,_ ” he said, teasing edge clear in his tone, but reached into his back pocket to retrieve his phone. Jongin really wasn’t surprised to see the display completely shattered.

Taemin watched as Jongin typed in his number and saved the contact, eyes trained on Jongin’s face and making his finger shake for some goddamn reason. _Why the hell was he nervous?_

“Alright then,” Taemin stated again once he retrieved his phone, “I’m off now, gotta make sure I get back before my roommate wakes up. I’ll text you.” He waved his phone before pocketing it, turning around again to open the door before slipping out with a last smile directed at Jongin, who mirrored it with a small wave of his own.

The door fell shut heavily then, leaving him listening to the thumps of Taemin’s footsteps steadily fading and making him wonder why the hell he didn’t take the elevator.

Jongin turned around, smile still set on his face while he walked into his room to change into less-filthy clothes and finally get into bed, desperately ignoring his clock telling him it was nearing 5 am already.

He opened his window slightly before lying down on the bed and finally letting the night take an end, feeling unconsciousness already pulling at him with thoughts of light laughs and blonde hair falling in front of dark eyes filling the back of his mind.

_Peace, rest, rest, rest._

 

-

 

Taemin didn’t call, and Jongin _wasn’t_ disappointed and feeling rejected. Not at all. How could he, it’s not like he had any expectations. _Not at all._

“Yeah, sure,” Baekhyun had said after Jongin assured him that nothing was wrong, that he was completely alright, only to be met with raised brows and sarcastic jabs. “You’ve been sitting here for, like, _days._ The couch probably has an indent of your ass by now!”

Jongin had just sighed and shaken his head before going back to whatever shitty reality show he’d been watching, but _of course_ Baekhyun couldn’t have let Jongin have his peace. _Of course_ he had to take the remote from where it was resting on Jongin’s chest and turn the TV off, only to stand in front of Jongin with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“What?” Jongin mumbled, frown deepening on his face. Baekhyun heaved an exaggerated breath before moving to pull at Jongin’s arms.

“You,” he started, ignoring Jongin’s noise of discomfort, “are going out tonight. I’m calling Chanyeol, and we’re gonna get _wasted._ ”

“Okay, no,” Jongin stated once Baekhyun had pulled him up to his feet, “I don’t wanna go out. I have an assignment due next week, and I really-“

“Oh, shut it, we both know you’ve finished that already. We’re going out, and you’re gonna like it.” With that, Baekhyun went to Jongin’s room with a promise of picking out _the hottest things I can find in your closet, you’re gonna get some!_

Jongin sighed a final time before retreating to the shower, deciding that, maybe, drinking too much cheap alcohol would make the bitter feeling in his chest disappear.

 

The club was loud and too crowded for Jongin to be comfortable, people bumping into him and spilling their drinks on the already-sticky floor while dancing to some bass-filled music track, fake smoke and the strong stench of alcohol filling the hot air around him, and Jongin wanted to leave.

Leaving didn’t seem like an option, though, not with the strong grasp Baekhyun had on his wrist from where he was following Chanyeol to the bar, neatly dodging any people coming too close to him.

Once Jongin finally got to sit down on a bar stool, there were already multiple cheap-smelling shots placed under his nose and the noise of Chanyeol and Baekhyun urging him to drink filling his ears.

And with that, the night began taking its course, Baekhyun ordering drink after drink and Jongin downing whatever Chanyeol slid over to him with an increasingly neutral expression.

Jongin’s body felt warm, his head fuzzy and blessedly blank for once. The flashing lights of the club seemed to wash together and his chest vibrated in time with the loud music bouncing off the walls.

His eyes flew over the countless moving bodies on the dance floor, and before he realized what was happening, he was being pulled towards the mass by Baekhyun’s hand on his wrist again, his cloudy mind picking up a slurred, “We gotta dance, Jonginnie! You gotta show off!”

Moving his body to the music wasn’t hard, and Jongin soon found himself losing focus of Chanyeol and Baekhyun in order to roll his body to whatever beat reverberated in his ears, forgetting his surroundings nearly completely.

At least until he felt two hands slightly grab his waist. He lazily turned his head, and his eyes would have probably widened if his mind weren’t so glazed over, because the face coming into view was all pale skin and full red lips with bright hair falling messily over it.

Jongin turned around, facing Taemin fully now, and the first thing escaping his mouth is a, “You didn’t call,” because, apparently, drunk-Jongin’s mind doesn’t mind seeming desperate or hung-up over some guy he’d met nearly three weeks ago.

Jongin’s surprised to find Taemin’s expression turn almost guilty before he leans in to mutter into Jongin’s ear, “My roommate was freaking out and didn’t leave me out of his sight for a minute, I’m sorry, I wanted to talk to you again.”

The feeling of Taemin’s breath fanning against his ear had the hair at the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps rising on his skin despite the hot temperature in the club, and Jongin’s mind had only half picked up Taemin’s excuse before he moved his hand to grasp Taemin’s shoulder and started slightly moving his body to the beat again.

“You’re a good dancer,” was the next thing he heard being spoken through the music, the sentence seemingly breathier and even _closer_ , and Jongin could startingly feel the soft brush of Taemin’s lips against the shell of his ear.

“Think you can keep up?” Jongin said back, the end of the sentence nearly turning into a gasp when he felt Taemin’s grip on his waist grow tighter and one hand slide up to rest on the side of his ribcage.

Taemin moved one leg between Jongin’s and pulled him even closer toward himself, nearly making their chests bump together with every move they made. Jongin let himself be guided by both Taemin’s grinding moves and the impelling music coursing through his body, letting his hips bump against Taemin’s own and his grip on Taemin’s shoulder move up to his slightly sweaty neck.

It was exhilarating, the feeling of Taemin’s hands tightening their grip on Jongin’s body, the tingling of Taemin’s hair against the side of his face, the pressure of Taemin’s leg brushing against his crotch with every slightly harsher movement they made together.

His senses were consumed by Taemin, and Jongin didn’t know if the alcohol was at fault for him feeling drunk anymore when he moved his head back a bit to look at Taemin, seeing his hair being even messier and his lips even redder from where his teeth were lightly digging into them, a thin sheen of sweat making his skin shine in the low lights of the club.

It was Jongin who leaned in the slightest bit, breathing in the breaths Taemin let out before everything seemed to stop once their lips just barely brushed together in nothing that would really be considered a kiss rather than just a sharing of air.

_Close, closer, touching, consuming._

Taemin’s grip on his waist seemed to falter before returning even tighter, and Jongin could feel their movements slowing down when, suddenly, Chanyeol’s voice reached his ears, a loud, “Baekhyun’s, like, two seconds away from throwing up all over the place, we gotta leave!” accompanied with two strong hands grabbing his shoulders and pulling him away from Taemin and toward the exit.

Jongin looked back just before they were outside, only to meet Taemin’s clearly amused face, a playful grin sitting on his lips. Jongin returned a smile and held his hand up in an attempted wave that was aborted by Chanyeol tugging on his wrist and making him stumble out into the crisp air, his head immediately feeling clearer after a few inhales of the cool breeze.

He felt the grip on his wrist let up and turned his head to see Chanyeol leaning against the wall next to the club entrance, his hand stroking Baekhyun’s back while he heaved onto the dirty ground.

Jongin stood next to Chanyeol, resting his head against the brick wall and closing his eyes. He let his hands rest on his waist, the skin there still feeling hot and tingly just like his lips. He pulled them between his teeth, fighting the smile tugging at the corners.

He gave up on fighting when he pulled out his phone, though, seeing a new message from an unknown number litter his notifications with a simple, _‘I really did wanna see you again, still do. -Taemin’._

_Still do, still do, still do._

_-_

Jongin looked at himself through the bathroom mirror, tugging at the loose strands of his hair for what felt like the hundredth time in the past two minutes before sighing and shaking his head, deciding to just leave his hair in peace already.

If anyone were to ask Jongin if he was nervous, he would wholeheartedly deny it, because nobody got nervous over simply _meeting up with someone,_ even if that _someone_ is the guy he picked up from a dirty alley, treated his wounds, and ground against him in a club a few weeks later.

So, no, Jongin was _not_ nervous, and his hands were only shaking because of the coffee he’d forced down his throat that morning.

Taemin and he had been texting on and off since the night at the club, the simple exchanges of wanting to meet up turning into increasingly regular good-morning and good-night texts, followed up by an occasional picture from either of them burning their dinner or documenting whatever they were doing that day.

It was an odd progress, how they somehow grew closer without really noticing, but it was a nice odd. The kind of odd that left Jongin craving more, that made him miss not having _this_ sooner. Whatever _this_ was.

Because Taemin seemed to enjoy having Jongin overthinking his sometimes-too-flirty messages, always catching Jongin off-guard with a _‘would like to know if your hips move that well when you’re not dancing, as well’,_ leaving Jongin to either laugh it off, switch the topic, or reply with an uncharacteristically daring _‘Better find out, hm?’_

He thinks that’s what’s making his right knee jerk up and down right now, sitting on a bench in a secluded park, waiting for Taemin to show up.

The air around him was steadily darkening, the gloom of dawn settling over his surroundings in a hue of blue and red. It was warm, the soft breeze rustling the leaves around him and disheveling his already messy hair while he scanned the park, looking at each person passing by twice to make sure it wasn’t Taemin.

Jongin thinks he may have had a minor heart attack when he felt two arms encircling his shoulders from behind, and the loud gasp he let out must’ve sounded hilarious to Taemin, who was bend-over and laughing at Jongin’s shocked face.

“Oh, fuck you, you nearly _killed_ me!” He exclaimed, hand resting on his chest as he watched Taemin walk around the bench to sit down next to him, still letting out little wheezing laughs.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself after you told me how easy it was to scare you,” Taemin said lightheartedly after he regained his breath, leaving Jongin scoffing at him playfully.

“Anyway,” Jongin carried on, “what’d you wanna do? Except scare me to death, of course.”

Taemin snorted, crossing his legs and sliding his right hand into the rips of his jeans. “We could get something to eat, maybe come back here and hang around. Or something else, whatever you want, I just like it here ‘cause it’s much quieter than anywhere else.”

Jongin turned to face Taemin, catching the other already looking at him before smiling. “Yeah,” he said, voice soft in comparison to Taemin’s more energetic one, “I like that. I can’t really afford much, though, college doesn’t really let me book five-star restaurants.”

Taemin shook his head dismissively and got up, holding his hand out for Jongin to take it. “I know some corner store nearby! They sell _amazing_ ramen, and it’s, like, _crazy_ cheap.”

Jongin let himself be pulled to his feet and led towards the ominous corner store Taemin seemed so infatuated with, trying not to notice his chest jerk every time their shoulders bumped together or how Taemin didn’t let go of his hand until they reached the doors of the store, leaving his fingers shaking and his palm tingling with the heat Taemin left him with.

_Don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let go._

 

“So,” Jongin began again after they settled down on the soft grass of the park, “tell me about you.”

Taemin looks up at Jongin from the now-empty cup of noodles in front of him, huffing a breath. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything. Or, well, whatever you want me to know. Like, I’m 21 and go to college, I major in dance, which is why my parents aren’t paying for my tiny ass apartment and I have to struggle to pay rent every month because the only place that was hiring at the time was the library on-campus. I used to have three dogs, but my apartment doesn’t allow pets, so now they’re staying with my sisters. Your turn.”

Taemin looked at him, slightly taken aback by the sudden burst of information that Jongin lay upon him. He hummed, forehead creasing up in thought. "My life's really nothing exciting, but, uh, I’m 22, I dropped out of college because it just wasn’t for me, I guess? I work now, live with a friend, who’s – as you probably know by now – pretty protective. He’s great, though. His name’s Kibum, we work in the same place. My _two_ dogs are also staying with my family ‘cause Kibum has dogs, too, and it was his apartment first, and four dogs were too much for him – which, by the way, I don’t get _at all_ -, so I gave mine to my mother. I also rarely go out, the only reason you and I met at the club the other night was because Kibum and my other friends dragged me out of my room. But, hey, I’m not complaining now.”

Taemin ended his small speech with a deep exhale before laying down on the grass, looking back up at Jongin.

Jongin moved to lie next to Taemin after a few moments, resting his head on the other’s extended arm. He tried not to shiver when he felt Taemin pull him closer the slightest bit, his arm bending to let his hand settle on Jongin’s chest, his fingers tapping to the rhythm Jongin had been humming on their way to the store against the fabric of his shirt.

It was peaceful; the quiet air surrounding them, the only thing not basking them in complete darkness being the dull street lamps placed outside of the park’s fence, the warmth of Taemin’s arm – Taemin’s _body –_ against him, the smell of faint cologne and sweet grass he’s come to associate with Taemin invading his senses, and Jongin never wanted to move from where he was staring into the night sky right now.

He only reluctantly turned his head when he could feel Taemin look at the side of his face, facing him finally, and the air was nearly knocked out of his lungs at the sudden lack of space between them. It didn’t feel like the night at the club, where the heady lights surrounded them and the bitter alcohol clouded his mind, because this time, there was nothing else around him, nothing else on his mind, but _Taemin._

And when Taemin leaned in even closer, his breath warm on Jongin’s skin, Jongin didn’t hesitate to place his hand on the side of Taemin’s face. Didn’t hesitate to close his eyes once Taemin’s face became blurry with how close he was to Jongin, and didn’t hesitate to cross that last bit of distance Taemin left between their mouths when he felt the warm air mingling between their lips.

Their lips touched, and this time, it wasn’t limited to a mere brush against each other. Taemin moved in closer, the hand still resting on Jongin’s shirt grasping the fabric in a tight grip while his lips moved alongside Jongin’s in a way that made his mind feel dizzier than when there was alcohol clouding it, sliding together with such familiarity Jongin was left wondering if they hadn’t actually done this before.

Jongin knew, though, when Taemin let his tongue swipe along his bottom lip, that he would remember if this had happened between them already. Would remember the sweet taste of the flavored water Taemin had drunk invading his mouth once he parted his lips to let Taemin’s tongue slide against his.

Taemin slowly moved his arm from underneath Jongin’s head, leaving him momentarily confused before Taemin sidled his knees to rest on either side of Jongin’s hips. He settles himself on Jongin’s lap, sliding his hands up Jongin’s chest before tangling his fingers into Jongin’s hair, making him sigh into their kiss with the light tugs Taemin gave the strands.

Jongin let the hand not currently caressing Taemin’s neck move to grab his waist, sliding his fingers gently under the soft fabric of Taemin’s shirt to feel his warm skin against his.

Taemin softly gasped against his lips when Jongin let his nails slightly scratch against his skin, making Jongin smile into the kiss and Taemin tug his hair harder in response.

Eventually, Taemin pulled away, leaving Jongin to pull in deep breaths into his lungs, only to have them turn into gasps when Taemin went to nibble at his neck. Jongin’s hand withdrew from Taemin’s neck to hold onto his shoulder, rolling his head back for Taemin to have access to the whole expanse of his throat, and when he bit and sucked against the skin just below Jongin’s ear before soothing the spot with soft licks of is tongue, Jongin let out an embarrassingly high sound and absentmindedly pushed his hips up to meet Taemin’s.

The move made his crotch meet Taemin’s and had them both jerk slightly at the sudden contact, the already growing pleasure burning in Jongin’s body heightening by a tenfold. Taemin pulled off his neck suddenly, looking into Jongin’s eyes intently.

“Are you okay? With this?” He emphasized the last part with a slow roll of his hips, effectively making Jongin breath out a moan into the small space between their mouths.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, sliding his hand to the side of Taemin’s face before rocking his own hips up into Taemin’s, “more than okay.”

Taemin huffed a laugh, meeting the steadying rolls of Jongin’s hips with movements of his own. Jongin heard himself gasp heavily at every harsh contact of his crotch meeting Taemin’s, the clear feeling of his own hard erection rocking against Taemin’s through their jeans leaving him feeling intoxicated.

Their eyes somehow never moved away from each other, always staying locked on the other’s expressions, and Jongin had to positively force himself not to close them once the grinding of Taemin’s hips became faster, rougher, leaving Jongin unable to think about anything else that wasn’t _Taemin._

He reveled in the moan he got from Taemin when he rocked up especially hard and moved his hand still holding onto his waist under his shirt, digging his nails into Taemin’s back and leaving slight scratches down the middle of it.

They probably shouldn’t be doing this, not after having only met for the third time, and _definitely not_ in a dark corner of an otherwise public park, but, somehow, through the clouds in his mind and the too-fast-growing pleasure in the pit of his stomach, Jongin couldn't bring himself to think twice about it.

Taemin’s gasps and little moans growing in volume told Jongin that he couldn’t mind either, right now.

Jongin felt himself reach his high when he felt one of Taemin’s hands reach back into his hair to tug roughly at the strands, making a broken moan tumble from his lips and his fingers dig into Taemin’s shoulder to, probably, leave crescents resting on Taemin’s fair skin. After that, everything blurred together around him, leaving him no longer sure whose gasps belonged to who and whose breath was whose.

It was exhilarating, to feel Taemin shake against him while his own body was still hot and sensitive with the aftershocks coursing through him. Taemin had his eyes closed now, lips parted to release stuttering gasps and breathy calls of Jongin’s name, and Jongin found his eyes unable to move away from the sight that is Lee Taemin.

Taemin climbed off him after Jongin’s complaint of, “God, you’re too heavy now,” lying back down next to him with his head resting on Jongin’s chest.

“Fuck,” he said after a while, looking up at Jongin through drooping eyes, “I feel disgusting.”

Jongin laughed, rolling his head to the side before letting his cheek come back to lay against Taemin’s head. “Well, we _did_ just come in our pants like some high schoolers.”

“Ugh, the last time I came from dry-humping someone was when I was literally sixteen and drunk off my mind,” Taemin laughs, his chest heaving with the force of it. Jongin snorted, looking down at Taemin’s face as he laughed. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

Taemin hummed affirmatively once his laughs stopped, grabbing Jongin’s hand from where it was resting against his own chest to toy with his fingers, ultimately tangling their hands together.

Jongin sighed calmly. “I really enjoyed tonight. Not only the coming-in-my-pants part. Just the seeing-you part.”

He felt Taemin’s hair tickle his cheek as he turned his head up to look at Jongin, the angle weird once he pressed their lips together in another, much slower kiss. He backed away again too soon, Jongin slightly chasing his lips. “Me too,” Taemin then breathed into the space between their mouths, and Jongin thinks his mind couldn’t be emptier of any worry clouding it with Taemin intoxicating each one of his senses.

_Drunk, careless, free, allbecauseofyou._

 

-

 

Somehow, having Taemin in his life changed everything and nothing at all.

It was as if he had always just belonged there, as if Jongin’s life had never been complete up until the point where Taemin and he started going out nearly every night, taking turns choosing cheap run-down restaurants and dark quiet corners in the city to spend the evening together until the ungodly hours of the night.

Nothing changed. He still went to college after eating the nearly-expired toast on his kitchen counter, still got dragged out into whatever club Baekhyun and Chanyeol discovered that week, and still managed to choreograph some dances to perform at the upcoming show he was attending. And yet, it also still felt as if each moment spent with Taemin was the biggest change Jongin could’ve ever made.

Baekhyun wasn’t elated to hear the new development that had taken place in Jongin’s life, insisting that, _“People you meet beaten up and bloody in a dirty alley aren’t people you should make out with in public places at night, Jongin!,”_ but Jongin couldn’t really listen to him, not when he still felt the tingling feeling of the bruises blossoming on his neck from four days ago.

Jongin didn’t want to let himself think about how he _still_ doesn’t know the most trivial things about Taemin. He knows the deeper things; fears, ambitions, flaws, how he deals with sadness, but when Baekhyun asked him what Taemin even _works,_ Jongin had noticed just how unimportant that detail seemed to him until then.

He thought back to one evening where they were sitting in the park just next to Jongin’s apartment, the forgotten fries from the nearest McDonald’s in front of them half-eaten and cold with their constantly changing topics and the occasional random laughing fits that took place between them.

“I don’t know,” Taemin had answered to Jongin’s question of whether he would change something, _anything,_ in his life right now, “I don’t think I would. There are some things that probably wouldn’t sound too appealing to someone else, but I like where I am right now, I think. I wouldn’t be _me_ if I wasn’t, you know?”

Jongin had nodded his head, absentmindedly sipping on the melted ice of his coke.

He didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but Baekhyun’s words of, _“You barely know the guy,”_ kept reverberating in his ears. “What wouldn’t sound _too appealing_?,” he asked, voice sounding rough even to his own ears.

Taemin cleared his throat, brushing his hand through his hair. The dark roots were steadily growing back, and Jongin silently wondered how long it’s been since Taemin had dyed it.

“My place of work,” Taemin eventually said, nearly too quiet had it not been for the choking silence surrounding them, “it’s not exactly an office, nine-to-five job.”

He must’ve noticed the incredulous look on Jongin’s face, because the frown adorning his face deepened before he continued. “You already know way more than you should, and I’m sorry for how fucking ominous this must sound, but my roommate and my friends are _already_ constantly on my ass for only meeting up with you.”

“And you can’t tell me?” _You can’t trust me?_

Taemin sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “God, Jongin, you don’t know how _badly_ I want you to know every last bit of my life, but believe me when I tell you that it’s better if you don’t know any more about this. I’m already putting you in too much trouble by just _sitting_ here, for fuck’s-“

Jongin stopped his rambling once he noticed his fingers shaking from where they were plucking the dead grass off the ground. “Taemin,” he breathed, letting his thumb stroke against the skin of Taemin’s hand, “please, what do you mean? I’m starting to get concerned.” He wanted the last part to sound joking, lighthearted, but Taemin’s hand tightening around his own made his chest clench.

Taemin heaved a deep breath, shaking his head slightly before meeting Jongin’s eyes again. “Just- Just trust me.”

And Jongin did. _God,_ he did.

 

-

 

It was after that night that Taemin stopped texting back, and Jongin tried to make himself believe that there was a better – a _bearable –_ explanation than Taemin simply being sick of him.

Baekhyun looked at him with pity in his eyes as he let himself into Jongin’s apartment one evening with a box of take-out in his hands, only seeing Jongin staring at his turned-off phone with the TV playing a rerun of some cheap drama in the background.

Baekhyun probably tried not to let the underlying message of, _“I told you so,”_ filter through his soft, consoling words, but Jongin got the message. He was right, after all.

Because, at the end of the day, Jongin truly didn’t know Taemin as well as he’d liked to tell himself, and he silently wondered how the hell he managed to spill every last detail of his life to Taemin while not even knowing where he _worked._

Though, Jongin thought as Baekhyun tried in vain to get Jongin involved in his and Chanyeol’s conversation, it wasn’t like he knew absolutely _nothing_ about Taemin.

He knew where he grew up, knew he had to take care of his brother because his parents spent their whole week working from early to late. He knew how he liked to order extraordinary cocktails in bars when he didn’t want to get drunk but would stick to the cheapest vodka shots whenever he wished to get wasted.

Jongin knew the way Taemin’s eyes would shut nearly completely when he laughed, knew what he looked like when he could barely breathe from how hard he was laughing, all thrown-back head and hands clasping his thighs.

He knew how to touch Taemin, where to kiss, where to lick, to make him unable to do more than just stutter out moans and tug desperately at Jongin’s hair. He had the imagery of Taemin’s elongated throat, of his chest heaving up and down, eyes shut tightly, hair disheveled and full lips parted in heavy gasps, behind his eyelids whenever he wanted to sleep, every expression Taemin’s face brought still clear as day.

Jongin knew what _Taemin’s_ touch felt like, the soft drag of fingers against his skin impossible to forget. He still felt the way Taemin’s tongue would trace hotly along his pulse point before biting down on the thin skin to leave a dark bruise matching the dark purple of the _“Open 24/7”-_ signs, and Jongin absentmindedly brought his hand up to brush over the steadily fading mark adorning his neck.

He knew what Taemin’s lips looked like after, red and bruised, forming words about the stars that night or the flowers next to them or nothing at all. Knew the sparks his eyes would get whenever he would talk about a special book he’s reading at the moment or the documentary he’d watched about how there was not a chance that they were alone in the universe.

Jongin knew everything someone would think there was to Taemin, and yet it still felt like half of their time together he’d spent talking to a stranger.

He felt a touch to his knee and locked eyes with Baekhyun. He let his lips twitch upward in a meager attempt to smile and tried desperately to hold onto the belief that Taemin wasn’t a stranger, wasn’t something temporary in Jongin’s life.

He tried, _oh, how he tried,_ though with the weeks of nothing but old memories of Taemin for Jongin to recall flying by, he felt himself slip further and further from actually thinking that there was ever an ounce of hope for him and Taemin to exist together.

That didn’t make him falter in scrolling nearly to the bottom of his most-recent text messages, though, checking ridiculously if maybe, by any chance, Taemin’s text just simply didn’t show up in his notifications.

Jongin felt pathetic every time after locking his phone and letting it drop onto the night table, and maybe that was exactly what he was.

_Pathetic, hopeless, lost, inloveinloveinlove._

 

-

 

Life went on. Jongin wasn’t sure if he wanted it to.

It wasn’t like Taemin was that big of a part of his life, or at least that’s what he told himself over and over again at night while he was staring at his blank ceiling, wondering where he would be right then had Taemin not disappeared.

And he had, pretty much, disappeared. Jongin had spent hours upon hours haphazardly wandering around the countless parks they’d spent their nights in together, had gone to too many run-down clubs the first weeks of not having seen Taemin in useless attempts of somehow catching slivers of bright blonde hair in the dark shadows or the smothering crowd of people.

But Jongin felt like if Taemin didn’t _want_ to be found, there wasn’t a chance that anyone would catch even a glimpse of him.

Jongin only wondered why he didn’t want to be found by _him._

Baekhyun often pulled him out of thoughts like those, smacking him across the arm when he saw Jongin stare down into his lap, not reacting to a single thing he said.

It helped, having Baekhyun there. He’d occasionally burst into Jongin’s apartment with Chanyeol following behind him, calling out a greeting before throwing himself onto the couch next to him.

“I told him he could at least knock,” Chanyeol said the first couple of times, wringing a dry laugh from Jongin and an indignant noise from Baekhyun.

One time, Jongin was surprised to actually hear three soft raps against the door before it opened, revealing only Chanyeol on the other side.

“Baekhyun has a shit ton of homework. I had to practically strap him to his chair so that he would let me come check on you on my own. And not in the kinky way,” Chanyeol said as an explanation upon seeing Jongin’s surprised face from where he was sitting on the kitchen table, bowl of soggy cereal forgotten in his hand.

“You really don’t have to come here nearly every day, I’m not about to jump out of the nearest window because some guy just fucking-,” he gestured faintly with his hands, hoping to get his point across.

Chanyeol laughed quietly while making his way over to sit on the kitchen counter, and Jongin winced when he nearly hit his head against the cupboard.

“We don’t _have_ to, but we want to. Also, like this, Baek not only gets an excuse to not do his assignments, but also gets me to leave my studio for once, so really, you’re doing us a favor.” Chanyeol stretched his leg to shove Jongin’s knee slightly, and Jongin covered his mouth to stifle his laugh.

He got up from the table and went to put the bowl into the sink, smile still on his lips.

Chanyeol hummed again. “He wasn’t just _some guy,_ was he?”

The question caught Jongin off-guard, hands stuttering where they were scrubbing the dirty dishes littering the sink.

Jongin thought back to a night where Taemin and he were sat under a nearly-wilted cherry-blossom tree, the breeze the night brought with it a nice contrast to the hot feeling of Taemin’s hands all over his skin as his lips never left Jongin’s, soft fingers working his dick too slow for Jongin to gain any satisfaction out of it.

_“Please,”_ Jongin had said, _begged_ , into Taemin’s mouth, and Taemin merely chuckled from his spot on Jongin’s lap before dipping his head to nip at Jongin’s jaw, sucking tender bruises into the skin.

Jongin let his hands run down Taemin’s chest, sliding under his shirt to flick at his nipples, reveling in the sharp gasp that hit the side of his neck before he unbuttoned Taemin’s jeans with shaking fingers.

Jongin slipped his pants down just enough to be able to get as much access to Taemin’s erection as he had on Jongin’s, quickly grasping Taemin in a tight grip and running his thumb over the head of his dick.

Taemin had dropped his head onto Jongin’s shoulder at that, a broken moan falling from his mouth into the quiet night. Jongin’s other hand moved up to grab at Taemin’s hair, tugging at it in a desperate plead for Taemin to finally stroke him properly.

And he did, hand only letting up on the tight pressure and increasing speed whenever Jongin would let his fingers drag _just right_ along his length, and between both of their heavy sighs and quiet moans, Taemin gasped out into Jongin’s ear, “ _Fuck, Jongin, so good. You’re so good, like you so much- fuck, yes, come on,”_ and Jongin could do nothing more than to stroke Taemin rougher, faster, and breathe his own praises into Taemin’s ears.

Jongin looked up from where his eyes have been trained on the same clean dish in the sink for the last few minutes, catching Chanyeol’s curious gaze with his own.

“Yeah,” he said, voice on the brink of breaking, “I guess he was.”

 

-

 

It was nearing four in the morning when Jongin was woken up from his sleep by the irritating ringing of his phone, and he nearly just ignored it in favor of keeping his eyes closed.

Though, when he blinked one eye open and caught sight of the blurry text stating ‘ _Unknown Number_ ’, he couldn’t help his curiosity from picking up, making him grab his phone from the bedside table and hesitantly tap to accept the call.

“ _Jongin?_ ” The voice on the other side was hoarse over the static sound of bad connection, but still so awfully familiar that Jongin damn near dropped his phone to the floor.

He exhaled shakily. “Yeah?”

“ _Fuck, thank God you picked up,”_ was the response, every word nearly swallowed by the next in the haste to get the sentence out, “ _I’m so sorry, Jongin, I just wanted to tell you that I’m okay, I guess._ ”

Jongin shook his head and smiled pitifully. “Taemin,” he breathed, the name not yet foreign on his tongue, “Taemin, is this you?”

He heard the sound of a static laugh through the phone before his ears picked up a, “ _It’s me, Jongin._ ”

And, _fuck_ , how much Jongin reveled in what little of Taemin’s voice he got to hear with the sizzles of the connection nearly breaking and the dull sounds of cars passing by in the distance.

“Where- _God,_ where _are_ you?”

“ _I’m save, and I’m so sorry, but I can’t get you into this. You mean too much to me, I can’t, Jongin. I think the time on this thing is limited, I had to pay with, like, one cent pieces, but I gotta tell you that I'm sorry for just disappearing, I'm sorry for not even leaving a note, for fuck's sake, but I promise you'd understand if you knew more."_

_Then why don’t I know more?_ Jongin wanted to ask, though he knew he wouldn’t get an answer.

“Are you coming back?” Is what he asked instead, words laced with cowardly dread, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“ _I will, and I’ll come find you first. God, Jongin, I miss you so much. Wait for me, please._ ”

Jongin briefly thought how he’d never heard Taemin’s voice like this; wavering with every word he uttered quietly into the phone, each sentence rambled and uncoordinated. It was the least Taemin-like thing he’d ever witnessed. _Incoordination._

And Jongin wanted to be mad, wanted to be able to yell at Taemin, to demand where he was and why the hell he had just _left_ without leaving anything behind, but, right now, he could do no more than to let his voice travel through the phone in a way that must have had Taemin struggling to discern his words.

“I will. I miss you so-“

He was cut off by a static voice announcing that the caller had reached his time limit, followed by the steady tone of the connection being broken.

Jongin held his phone by his ear for too long, letting his mind be overtaken by the rhythmic noise on the other end of the call, desperately trying to make the static but calming sound of Taemin’s voice reappear to replace it.

It didn’t, and it took Jongin another minute to make his hovering thumb finally tap the button to ultimately end the call.

_Come back._

 

-

 

A month had passed, and then another, when Jongin’s world collapsed in front of his feet.

Since the call Taemin had left him with, Jongin’s mind seemed to stop asking sorrow _What if’_ s and keep him awake at night with thoughts of why Taemin had left him.

Instead, he lay awake wondering what Taemin was doing, where he was, with _who_ he was. He didn’t know if it was better, knowing that Taemin still _cared,_ still wanted Jongin in his life, but he knew his chest didn’t hurt in the same way as before whenever Baekhyun or Chanyeol stopped by, or whenever he scrolled through his phone and would catch sight of Taemin’s last-updated-five-months-ago profile picture.

Though, whatever pain he’d felt in his chest those previous months couldn’t compare to the shattering feeling, the utter loss of the capability to drag air into his burning lungs, when he’d heard that god-damned monotonous voice of that god-damned news reporter filter through his apartment.

The dull sting in his foot couldn’t compare to the crushing ache overtaking his whole chest, and for a moment Jongin thought he would pass out, black spots dancing in his blurry vision and nausea clouding his senses, or maybe even die, too.

He stayed wide awake, though, the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and the blood pooling warmly around his feet nearly overwhelming with the TV still blaring from the living room, words uttered into the silence. _Something about a convenience store being robbed,_ Jongin’s mind picked up, though the words didn’t seem to make sense, not with the only words in front of his eyes and inside of his head being _Lee Taemin found dead Lee Taemin found dead LeeTaeminFoundDead-_

Never once had Jongin felt as if his life had just lost its signification, but maybe it was finally time fate would catch up with him.

There was a distinct sound of a door being opened after some time. Jongin wasn’t sure how long it’s been, only knows that his vision had cleared up but his knees were still on the floor and blood was still oozing from the open wound in his foot and the news reporter was still rambling about pointless topics. _He never watched the news, you idiot, why the fuck are you watching the god-damn news today-_

“Jongin!” Baekhyun’s voice added to the commotion happening around Jongin, and it was only a few moments later that he saw Baekhyun’s concern-stricken face enter his view.

“Jongin, come on, _fuck,_ you- you’re bleeding, what- “

He felt two stronger hands grip his shoulders from behind between Baekhyun’s overwhelmed words. _Chanyeol,_ was what his mind supplied before he was dragged to stand upright, though with more than half his weight resting on Chanyeol.

He tried to speak, tried to answer Baekhyun, _anything_ to make the pained expression on his face fade, but the only thing escaping his mouth were soundless gasps.

“It’s okay,” he heard from next to him, the sound a deep rumble compared to Baekhyun’s light voice, “sit down, you’re okay.” _I’m not._

“Taemin-,” he started once he was sat down on the couch, voice raspy and choked off, the sting in his foot slowly becoming more apparent now.

Baekhyun probably figured he wouldn’t continue talking anymore when his voice broke off after only saying a name, telling Chanyeol to get the first-aid kit from Jongin’s bathroom.

Catching sight of the bright-red box being set on the table in front of him made his chest constrict a tad bit more, and it started to get unbearable when he saw a strand of blonde hair being caught in the holsters.

He didn’t expect the burn of disinfectant spray, flinching slightly at the sudden feeling and receiving a quiet “ _Sorry_ ” from Chanyeol before he went to dab the dried blood away from his foot.

“You should maybe get that checked out, might be deep enough to need stitches,” Baekhyun muttered from where he was precariously leaning over Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” Jongin croaked out, and he knew he was solemnly speaking about the gaping wound on his foot.

Chanyeol went to put a bandage on the cut gently. “Are you gonna tell us what happened?”

His voice was soft, but the question seemed like another blow to the chest to Jongin. He took a deep breath though, willing himself to get out the few words that would hopefully explain enough for neither Chanyeol nor Baekhyun to ask anything more for the next moments.

“Taemin’s dead.”

Chanyeol’s fingers froze where they were wrapping the bandage around his foot, his eyes jumping up to meet Jongin’s face, and Baekhyun went to sit beside Jongin, expression making it clear that he had no idea what to do.

“ _What?”_ was the next thing he heard from Baekhyun, the word exhaled in one breath.

Jongin closed his eyes, willing his hands to _stop fucking shaking, god damn it._

“It was on the news. My mug broke,” he muttered, numbly gesturing towards his foot.

He felt more than saw Baekhyun heave a deep breath, the warm air fanning across his skin. “You’re sure it was him? I mean, there must be more than just one person named _Lee Taemin-_ “

The name made his eyes clench together tighter. “It was him.” Jongin was sure. The picture of wild blonde hair and full, parted lips next to the blurry news reporter clear in his mind.

“Fuck, come here,” Baekhyun murmured, leaning forward to pull Jongin into a hug. Jongin couldn’t do more than lay his head down on the other’s shoulder and will away the shivers racking through his body as Chanyeol circled his thumb along the skin of his wrist.

_Numb, so numb, please come back._

_-_

Days passed in a blur of Jongin sitting in his darkened room, struggling to keep his eyes opened but still fighting sleep, not willing to close them and maybe have to experience Taemin’s touches again, only to wake up and be forced to convince himself that Taemin was _gone_.

Because now, Taemin really _had_ disappeared. He wouldn’t call at four in the morning this time around, wouldn’t reassure him that he was fine, wouldn’t promise him that _he would come back._

Jongin dragged himself up, distinctly aware of the sounds of the TV playing in the living room where Chanyeol and Baekhyun were probably asleep by now. Jongin tried not to feel guilty that they felt like they needed to stay over to watch over him.

The bathroom lights were nearly blinding when he turned them on, the orange hue making him shut his eyes for a couple moments before opening them again to stare at himself in the mirror.

He looked awful, and it suddenly made sense that Baekhyun and Chanyeol kept coming over with worried gazes directed in Jongin’s direction.

He kicked the door shut half-heartedly before letting the tab run cold water over his hands and wrists, still studying himself in the mirror.

_You did this to me,_ he thought.

_Lee Taemin. Couldn’t even keep a fucking promise._

_You god-damn promised, so why aren’t you safe?_

_You told me you’d come back, that I should wait for you, so where the fuck are you?!_

His thoughts were yelling, a mess of insults directed at himself or Taemin, he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t even feel the sting of his fist hitting the glass of the mirror until there were shards lying by his feet and stuck in his bloody knuckles.

“You promised,” he whispered, catching sight of his expression in one of the broken shards. “You fucking coward, you _promised-_ “

Childish. How childish, to be angry at someone for breaking a promise, but maybe Jongin just wanted to believe that Taemin was the one who had done wrong.

Maybe Jongin wanted to believe that it was _just_ a broken promise that had his sink tarnished with dark spots of red and his knuckles burning in time with his pulsating foot.

Maybe Jongin wanted to believe that Taemin would come back.

_Believe, hope, plead._

_-_

“Jongin, please, let’s go out for just _one night._ You haven’t left your room in nearly three weeks,” Baekhyun had exclaimed one evening after having barged into his room unannounced. Jongin just sighed and shook his head.

“If you come, I swear I’m not drinking _anything._ And neither will Chanyeol! Come on, you’re gonna feel better. You deserve one night of distraction.”

Jongin didn’t know what made him give in. Maybe it was Baekhyun’s pleading eyes or the way he uttered the words with such sincerity Jongin didn’t have it in him to decline. Maybe it was just him being too tired to argue anymore.

The moment he stepped foot into the club, he wanted to go back out. He was about to say so to Baekhyun trailing behind him with Chanyeol when he caught sight of an awfully familiar face seated at the bar.

At first, he couldn’t really associate any name with the face and the mop of dirty-blonde hair falling just below ears littered with piercings from top to bottom, especially not in the dark lights of the club and the fake-smoke littering the air. Jongin walked closer, and suddenly it struck him.

Pictures Taemin had shown him of his roommate’s dogs, their owner laughing amusedly at them fighting over some cheap plastic toy in the background. Vague descriptions of pouty lips and _that one specific scar on his eyebrow, looks totally edgy if you ask me, but he always tells me it fits his aesthetic._ Kibum.

And, honestly, Jongin didn’t know where the burst of confidence came from that made him pick up his pace and dodge his way through the crowd of people to get to the bar, but when he glanced back he only saw Chanyeol and Baekhyun stare confusedly at him, foreheads creased so similarly it could’ve made Jongin laugh.

He turned back around to look at Kibum, now a lot closer than before, close enough that he could comfortably talk to him even through the loud music blaring through the club.

Jongin waited until he wouldn’t be cutting off Kibum’s conversation with the guy standing behind the bar, not wanting to disrupt their peaceful smiles they were sharing. Once the bartender was waved to serve another person, though, Jongin cleared his throat.

“Hey, uh,” he started, pausing for a moment when Kibum turned his head to look at him, face creasing up in quiet confusion, “are you Kibum?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” was the response he got, the playful grin and loose grip his hand had on his glass seemingly oozing confidence.

"Well, uh, you probably don't know me, but I know- ", he cut off, wincing as he corrected himself, " _knew_ Taemin? And he kinda told me about you, so, uh, yeah.” Jongin realized he had no idea where he was going with this whole thing, where he wanted this conversation to go. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to about Taemin. Someone who _knew_ him.

Jongin was surprised to find Kibum’s expression light up. “Oh, holy shit, are you Jongin?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said, trying to bury the thought of Taemin talking to his friends about him.

Kibum got up from his seat at the bar, turning his head to nod at the bartender, receiving a smile and a small wave in return. “Let’s go outside? We can talk there, I can barely breathe in here.” With that, Kibum took a hold of Jongin’s wrist and pulled him through the bodies towards the exit. Jongin shot Chanyeol and Baekhyun a look, hoping they would get the message to _wait for him._

“Alright,” Kibum exhaled once they were outside, taking a deep breath of the clean air, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jongin’s eyebrows shot up, looking at Kibum leaning against the brick wall. “You have?”

Kibum hummed, patting the pockets of his jeans before pulling out a pack of cigarettes, sticking one in his mouth and politely offering Jongin one. He shook his head, watching Kibum shrug and light up his cigarette. He stuffed the pack back into his pocket, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke into the air.

Jongin watched the smoke mingle with the air around them as Kibum began talking again. “Taemin was quite intrigued by you, if I do say so myself. I think I’ve never heard him talk about something more than his _dogs_ and how he hated me for not letting them stay with us.” He ended the sentence with a laugh, momentarily leaning his head back against the wall before taking another drag of the cigarette.

“Did you know him well?”

The question had all of Jongin’s previous nights spent lying awake resurface, and he found that he still didn’t have a definite answer to that simple question. “I don’t know. I’d like to think so, I guess. I know about you, about his dogs, about _your_ dogs. I _feel_ like I know about his personality, what makes him laugh, but I never knew these most trivial things, like where he worked. Though I guess I know that now,” he chuckled humorlessly, the bitter feeling in his chest suddenly edging back now that he was reliving every experience he’d made with Taemin.

Kibum stared at him for a long moment before he threw the cigarette to the ground, putting his boot-clad foot down on it to extinguish the burning tip. “You don’t seem so shocked about finding out his area of work.”

It was more a statement than a question, though it was apparent that Kibum expected an answer. “I guess I always knew there was _something_ about him. It was kinda too perfect, you know? Also, him always dodging the questions about his job was pretty suspicious.” There was a smile on his lips now, Kibum mirroring the motion.

“You know about me, too.” Jongin nodded at the claim. “You know a lot, Kim Jongin.”

There was an edge of sharpness in Kibum’s voice as he said Jongin’s name, sending a shiver down his spine. “It never felt like I did.”

“Taemin,” Kibum sighed, the name rolling fondly off his tongue, “he’s a very closed-off person. Shy, even, I wouldn’t guess if I didn’t know him like the back of my hand. When he first told me about you, I didn’t really believe him. You have to imagine, he came back home one night with little bandages all over his skin and an ice-pack clutched under his arm, muttering about ‘ _this weird, hot guy that found me in that dirty alley behind the club and dragged me home to stitch me up’_ ,” he took a break to laugh again, Jongin joining in naturally, the feeling of hearing so much about Taemin making his heart beat faster.

“He kept coming home later and later, and I didn’t expect you two to grow as close as you did. Jongin, our place of work isn’t something that allows us to let people like you into our lives.” The sentence shouldn’t hit Jongin as hard as it did. He knew, _God,_ he knew.

“Do you know why he left?” Jongin asked, not able to keep himself from voicing the thought.

Kibum smiled, some remorse shining through. “We had a small argument, I guess. I told him he should stop seeing you if he wanted you to be safe, if he wanted _both of you_ to be safe. Taemin was probably the epitome of the ‘ _love blinds’-_ shit you see everywhere, ‘cause he just didn’t listen until, one day, he just up and left. He told me the night before, said he didn’t want you to be affected by whatever he was doing. I didn’t think he’d actually leave, but he did.”

Kibum stopped talking to get another cigarette from his pocket, lighting it again before taking another deep drag.

Jongin felt like his world was rebuilding itself but crashing down still, all at the same time with listening to Kibum talk about Taemin.

“He called me one night. From a payphone, I think. He told me he’d come back, he _promised-,”_ Jongin cut himself off before he would go down that road again, the bruises adorning his knuckles proof enough of how much he’d thought about those things and where it led.

Jongin watched as Kibum’s forehead creased up in apparent thought, exhaling the smoke that had gathered in his lungs. “Jongin,” he began, voice filled with intent, “I want you to come with me.”

Jongin frowned, switching his weight from one leg to the other. “Where to?”

"To my workplace. Maybe go find your friends and tell them you'll be home a bit later, I got something to show you. I'm gonna go get my jacket."

Jongin watched Kibum’s lean back retreat into the stuffy club and briefly wondered what made the pressure in his chest lessen and the memories of Taemin no longer feel suffocating.

He slid his phone from the pocket of his denim jacket and decided to simply leave a message telling Baekhyun he’d met a friend and would be back later, not really up to explain what had just happened. Maybe because he himself didn’t even really understand.

Kibum came back with his jacket slung casually around his shoulder and his hand holding onto the wrist of the bartender he’d previously been talking to.

“That’s Jonghyun,” Kibum said, raising the hand of the other man, “he works with me, too.”

Jonghyun studied him, all heavy gaze and soft smile, before winking slightly. “I don’t only do _that_ with him.”

Jongin snorted, hand coming up to cover his mouth when he saw Kibum’s incredulous expression. “Oh, shut up, let’s go,” Kibum then said, and the whine lacing his voice was like a whole one-eighty from the confidently smiling man Jongin had seen at the bar.

 

Jongin didn't know what he should have expected the workplace of Secret Agents to look like, but it definitely wasn't a normal – albeit expensive – looking house just outside of town, barely an hour from where the club they'd been at was located.

The house looked like something you would imagine a politician living in; clean, white walls, darkened windows, two garages, one floor. It was awfully simple.

Jonghyun slapped his back slightly, noticing Jongin’s gaze darting around nervously. “We’re not gonna kill you and bury you somewhere in our backyard, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jongin looked back at Jonghyun’s smiling face, the corners of his lips pulling up in a way that made Jongin want to smile back.

Kibum snorted while tapping in some multi-digit code into the screen next to the door before pulling out a key to unlock the door. It looked heavy when he pushed it open, holding it for Jongin to get in first before letting it fall shut, the sound loud in the nearly silent surroundings.

There were voices coming from a room further into the house, light streaming in from a hallway opposite of them. Jongin gazed around the large space he stepped into, again awfully normal looking, almost home-like with the large TV in front of a big couch and the open kitchen with a half-full fruit bowl sitting on the counter.

“Do you live here?” Jongin heard himself ask, voice nearly as quiet as the voices coming from a few rooms over.

“Yeah,” Kibum muttered, setting his key down on the small commode next to the door, “not only us two. You’ll meet them soon, they’re back there.” He gestured vaguely into the direction the voices were coming from, an occasional bright laugh cutting through the otherwise casual-sounding conversation.

Jonghyun went into the kitchen, opening the fridge to take a sip from the bottle of orange juice while Kibum switched on the lights.

“Don’t drink from the bottle, not _all_ of us want your germs in our juice,” Jongin heard a new voice nearing from the hallway, tone deep and steps damn-near inaudible.

The man went to lean against the kitchen counter, and Jonghyun just looked at him before taking another swig from the bottle.

Kibum clapped his hands together, ending the bickering at once. “Jongin, that’s Minho,” he said, and Minho raised his hand in a lazy wave.

“Pleasure to finally meet the infamous Kim Jongin,” he said, laughing at Jongin’s dumbstruck expression.

“How much exactly do you know about me?” Jongin asked, because _honestly,_ how much had Taemin told them about him?

“Just what Taemin ranted about every night he came home,” Minho said, pushing himself off the counter before coming over to throw an arm around Jongin’s shoulder. “You sound like quite the guy, you know- “

“Stop, Minho, you’re too tall for this, it’s scary,” Kibum cut in, and Jongin had to fight the urge to join Jonghyun in sputtering out a loud laughter.

“Hey, uh,” Jongin started, voice louder than earlier as he turned to Kibum, “why did you want to bring me here?”

Kibum smiled, grabbing Jongin’s wrist again after pushing Minho’s arm off his shoulders. “Where’s Jinki?” He then asked, directing his gaze at Minho.

“Asleep in his office. The new case got him going crazy.”

Kibum sighed, nodding his head before pulling Jongin along, walking towards the hallway before turning left and coming to a halt in front of a closed door. “Can you promise me you won’t faint and make me call an ambulance because you got a concussion from hitting your head?”

Jongin frowned. _What the hell was he talking about?_ “I guess?”

“Open the door if you want, I’ll be in the living room,” Kibum said, clapping Jongin on the back before walking away.

Jongin let his hand rest against the doorknob, straining his ears to maybe hear any noise coming from the room, but coming up with nothing but the beginning of a headache.

He gripped the handle a bit tighter, heart picking up at not being prepared for- well, anything, really.

He took a breath and pushed the door handle down, opening the door slowly.

“Minho? You forgot your phone,” Jongin heard a raspy voice speak up, sounding as if every word required effort to be spoken, but-

But it sounded so _familiar._ It sounded so much like nights spent in parks, talking and laughing and kissing and listening to the hum of whatever song was stuck in their heads, and Jongin wanted to cry, to fall back down on his knees like he did all those weeks ago. He wanted to rip open the crust that had started to form over the wound on his foot, wanted to smash his fist into another mirror. He wanted-

He wanted fucking clearance. So he set one foot in front of the other before rounding the corner to properly look into the room, and suddenly Jongin felt as if he’d lost all sense of reality that was left in him, because-

“Taemin?” He gasped, the words leaving his mouth sounding so far away, as if they were spoken from where the others were laughing carelessly in the living room, and Jongin didn’t know if he could keep Kibum’s promise.

“ _Fuck,_ Jongin?" Taemin breathed back, hastily getting up from his spot on the double-bed, "is that really you or did Jonghyun give me codeine-based pain-relievers again?"

Jongin choked out a laugh, and suddenly he felt as if he couldn’t stand upright anymore, the sound of Taemin’s voice filling his ears finally not only a figment of his imagination anymore.

“I think I should be the one asking that,” he eventually said, one hand steadying himself against the wall. “You- You’re fucking _dead,_ Taemin! Like literally dead, on-the-news _dead-_ “

Taemin took shaky steps towards him, fingers slowly interlacing with Jongin’s. He looked up into Jongin’s eyes, and Jongin let himself take in what he was seeing; the same full lips, dark eyes, sharp features and bright hair with roots now taking up nearly half of the length of the strands he was so painfully familiar with, and Jongin let his hand squeeze Taemin’s tighter.

“I’m not, Jongin, I’m here. We’re here,” Taemin breathed into the space between them, warm breath fanning across Jongin’s face, and the tears threatening to spill took their last step over the edge once his senses filled with faint cologne and sweet grass.

He didn’t bother wiping the tears away, free hand only firmly settling around Taemin’s waist before pulling him towards his own chest, burying his face in the juncture of Taemin’s neck, desperately trying to engrave every last detail of Taemin’s scent into his mind.

Taemin’s arm came to rest around Jongin’s neck, pulling him in even closer, leaving no space between them, and Jongin felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take in anything else despite the crushing feeling of Taemin’s chest moving in sync with his own breathing, of Taemin’s heart beating against his chest, of _Taemin TaeminTaeminTaemin-_

“I missed you. _So much,_ Jongin,” he felt more than heard Taemin whisper, the air of his words hitting the side of Jongin’s neck, leaving goosebumps to travel all over his body.

Jongin pulled away the slightest bit to be able to look at Taemin, surprised to find wet traces around his eyes, as well. Taemin slid his hand out of Jongin’s slowly, moving it up to cradle the side of Jongin’s cheek gently, and Jongin couldn’t help but lean in and will Taemin to cross the last breadth of distance between their lips.

He did so with a soft sigh, full lips fitting against Jongin’s in a way that made his head spin already, the sensation only intensifying once Taemin began to leisurely move their mouths together. It was Jongin who first let his tongue dart out to trace along Taemin’s bottom lip, the other making a quiet noise in the back of his throat at the first touch of their tongues sliding together in a rhythm that couldn’t be anything else than familiar.

Jongin tangled his fingers in Taemin’s hair, the messy strands soft against his skin while Taemin’s hand grasped the back of Jongin’s neck tightly, pulling him close, _so close,_ until neither of them could feel anything else than the other’s hands on their bodies and the other’s taste invading all of their senses.

Jongin felt the tip of Taemin’s tongue run along the back of his teeth, the feeling making a gasp escape his mouth, the noise swallowed by Taemin smiling into the kiss before he slowly backed away, Jongin slightly chasing after his lips.

Taemin laughed a bit, and seeing those kiss-bruised lips stretch into a wide smile and those dark eyes crease up at the edges made Jongin’s breath catch in his throat.

Jongin let the grip his hand had on Taemin’s hair slacken before sliding it down the other’s arm to tangle their fingers together once again, his chest squeezing in a whole different way now when Taemin held onto them tightly.

They simply stood there for how long, Jongin didn’t know, looking at each other, feeling the other’s warmth against themselves. It took seemingly all of Jongin’s willpower to open his mouth and let the question clouding the back of his mouth escape.

“What happened?” He asked, voice soft but intent.

Taemin looked down for a moment, a somewhat smile gracing his lips when his eyes found Jongin’s again. “It’s a long story that’s better when it’s told by all of us,” he said, putting some more distance between them and turning Jongin around to face the door again. “Ready to hear all about it?”

Taemin’s voice sounded light, though there was an undertone of _something_ there, reminding Jongin of the time they were talking about what they were dreading the most in life.

_“Letting people down,”_ Taemin had said, staring up into the sky while Jongin studied the side of his face. _You won’t,_ Jongin wanted to say, _please say you won’t._

Jongin felt Taemin’s hand squeeze his again, and he heaved a sigh, his shoulders raising before dropping again. He turned slightly to look at Taemin again, nodding with a smile taking over his lips. “I wouldn’t say ready, but I guess you could say I’ve been thinking about what happened to you for _weeks_.”

Taemin laughed before playfully shoving him toward the door and into the hallway, and Jongin wanted nothing more than to have the sound reverberate in his ears forever.

“So? All caught up?” Jonghyun said as soon as they stepped into the living room, eyebrows wiggling in attempted suggestion.

Taemin rolled his eyes, though there was a small smile reaching his mouth. “Shut up, we have some explaining to do,” he said then, sitting down on the carpet and leaning his back against the glass table before shoving Kibum’s feet away from the table. Jongin hesitantly moved to sit down next to Taemin, letting their thighs and shoulders brush together.

“Well,” he heard Kibum say, taking the remote from Minho’s hand and muting the random reality show playing on the TV, “where do you want us to start?”

Jongin looked at him, wondering if it wasn’t obvious what he wanted to know the most. “Uh, how about the News telling me that _Taemin’s fucking dead?”_

“Well, he was _nearly_ dead,” a new voice sounded, making Jongin turn his head toward the source, “I’m Jinki! Nice to meet you in person finally.”

“I seem to be hearing that a lot today,” Jongin said, looking over at a nearly-blushing Taemin with a raised brow, “but what do you mean _nearly dead_?”

Taemin cleared his throat setting a hand down on Jongin’s thigh. “I, uh, might have done some not-very-smart things,” Minho snorted at that, muttering a ‘ _yeah, that’s one way to put it’_ into his hand, “one of them being just leaving without telling Kibum, even though _I did,_ nobody just ever takes me seriously in here."

“You’ve said you were gonna leave, like, ten times every day! How could I know- “

Taemin kicked him softly with his foot, his shoulders shaking slightly with laughter. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, I left ‘cause I didn’t wanna get you even more involved in all of this, and I knew that if I had stayed you would’ve eventually found out and gotten into trouble.” Jongin tried not to scoff. Like he wasn’t involved right now.

“And I nearly told you, that night,” Taemin continued, voice growing quieter, “but I backed out. I couldn’t be the reason why you’d maybe be in danger. But look at us now, huh?” Taemin squeezed Jongin’s thigh, letting his thumb run along the fabric of his jeans. Jongin huffed out a laugh.

“I don’t even know why I told you my actual _name_ back when you found me in that alley. I shouldn’t have even done _that._ But yeah, I booked some cheap hotel in Daegu and tried so hard not to text you back, ‘cause I just couldn't risk hurting you in any way. I let my phone die eventually, but I just- I just couldn't fucking sleep, and I couldn't bear the thought of you thinking I had willingly left or something, so I called you at four in the morning, kinda hoping you wouldn't pick up."

Jongin smiled, looking at Taemin. “But I did.”

Taemin nodded. “But you did. And you told me you’d wait, and I promised I’d come back, and I damn near broke that promise.”

“But _why_?” Jongin asked, voice edging on desperate.

“You gotta know, Jongin,” he heard Kibum speak up, “this job – it doesn’t exactly keep you _safe._ Taemin’s been associated with this since he was fourteen, people in our line of work know enough about him to either be scared or to wanna prove something to him.”

“Someone wanted to prove something to me,” Taemin completed. “I’ve never even seen those guys, but they somehow got into the suite I was staying in and waited for me to get back. And when I opened my door, I was immediately greeted with a broken bottle to the head and a _shot to the fucking chest,_ like, wow, overkill much?” Taemin laughed a bit, leaning his head down to rest on Jongin’s shoulder for a moment before lifting it back up.

“Jonghyun found me, and what a sight that must’ve been,” he carried on, gaze turning to Jonghyun.

“I tracked the last place his phone had been before he let it die, ‘cause this dumbass had been gone for more than a week already and hadn’t texted _any_ of us,” he looked at Taemin with a reproaching gaze, “and whoever those guys were, they were gone and Taemin was bleeding out on the floor when I arrived at the suite. His room was by the fire exit, thank god for that, ‘cause I don’t think walking through a hotel lobby carrying a bleeding guy in my arms would be great for my record.

“I drove him back here and Jinki tended to his wounds, since he’s the only one who can actually _not_ stab himself while cutting up bandages. It was pure luck that whoever shot at Taemin weren’t good at what they were doing. The bullet just missed pretty much _everything,_ didn’t touch anything vital ‘cause it only went _in_ through the chest but came out by the shoulder.

“Still, he bled all over my entire car seat and nearly gave us all a heart attack. He passed out once while Jinki was stitching up the wound and I screamed into his ears to wake the fuck up.” Jonghyun laughed at the memory, though rather bitterly, with an empty look in his eyes.

Jongin looked down to where Taemin’s hand still lay on his thigh, grip now tighter than before. “Hope you can imagine how _I_ felt when I heard that he was _found dead._ ”

He felt Taemin’s stare burn into the side of his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to glance over at him, too. Not right now.

“The News probably just heard of shot’s being fired in a hotel suite and added in the most acknowledgeable details to get a story. To be fair, if I saw a room with blood on the walls and a bullet on the floor, I’d think whoever was hit would be dead, too,” Minho cut in, voice bordering on hesitant, “and, obviously, that wouldn’t be enough already. Of course Taemin’s wallet was left on the floor with all his information, even a fucking _business-card,_ I didn’t even know we _had_ those!”

“And now I’m an exposed man,” Taemin said, sounding defeated with the sigh he let out, and Jongin finally forced himself to look back up and lock his gaze onto Taemin’s.

“What are you doing now?” Jongin asked, not sure who the question was directed at, though his eyes were still on Taemin.

Taemin smiled at him, somehow seeming like he wanted to be the one reassuring Jongin. “I guess I can still work from here, the passive stuff, you know? Research, business, handling contacts and such, even though going out and beating people up from time to time was definitely my favorite part, it isn’t the only thing to this job. Only problem right now is that everyone kinda thinks I’m dead, so I gotta do something about my appearance, I guess.” Taemin chuckled at the end, the sound more genuine now.

Jongin knew it couldn’t be that easy, but he also really didn’t want to be thinking about all the complications lying ahead of them. “Guess we finally gotta do something about these roots, huh?” He said, lifting his hand to brush them through the strands on Taemin’s head.

“Shut up, you fucking _love_ this hair,” Taemin responded, laugh sounding clear through the big room as he put a strand of his air behind his ears in an exaggerated manner.

“So? Doesn’t change the fact that you look like a zebra.”

“I do _not-_ “

Minho cut Taemin off with a snort, leaning forward before getting up and walking toward the kitchen. “You two are worse than Jonghyun and Kibum, I think I’m gonna move out.”

He heard Jonghyun laugh loudly, the bright sound filling Jongin’s ears while Kibum groaned exaggeratedly, and Jongin could do nothing more than to stare at the slight redness taking over Taemin’s cheeks, barely able to resist from running his thumb along the skin there. He coughed slightly, his throat suddenly feeling awfully dry.

“Can I stay for the night?” He asked, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I don’t think I’d find the way back right now.”

Kibum nodded absentmindedly while unmuting the TV again, calling for Minho to get them something to drink and _that Pizza I hope you didn’t just eat on your own!_

Taemin got up then, dragging Jongin with him until he stood on his feet. “Wanna go back to my room? I need you to myself right now,” he breathed, Jongin barely able to hear if they weren’t standing so close together. He just nodded, a quick jerk of his head, before Taemin pulled him forward, directing a small ‘ _Good Night!’_ over his shoulder.

As soon as the door to Taemin’s room shut behind them, he was pushed against it almost violently, Taemin’s mouth immediately finding his in an open-mouthed kiss.

Jongin’s hands came to wind around Taemin’s slim waist, holding him against him while Taemin’s hands already moved under his shirt, warm fingers sliding against his skin and making quiet gasps leave Jongin’s mouth.

“Impatient?” He muttered between their kisses, only receiving a low hum in return before his shirt was pushed up and off, forcing them to break apart for a moment. Taemin looked him up and down, and Jongin felt the urge to cover his chest with how intently Taemin was staring at him.

He pulled at Taemin’s shirt, making his intent clear. Taemin smirked slightly, and Jongin had a short flashback to the night at the club, grinding against each other and breathing in the same air.

Taemin discarded his shirt, and Jongin couldn’t help but notice the stitched-up wound disturbing the otherwise clear, pale skin of his chest. He lifted his hand, finger softly tracing the healing wound until Taemin cupped the side of his face in one hand, willing him to look back up and let himself be dragged into another deep kiss.

Taemin swiped his tongue along Jongin's bottom lip almost instantly, and Jongin opened his mouth with a soft sound escaping his mouth. Taemin walked backward, never breaking their kiss and not stopping his hands from running all over Jongin's body until Jongin felt his knees hit the edge of his bed. He slowly sat down on it, Taemin settling on his lap as if it was the most familiar thing for him to do.

Thinking back to all the countless nights in the darkness of the park, maybe it was.

The feeling of their bare chests brushing together and Taemin steadily rocking his hips down onto his had Jongin grow harder faster than he’d like to admit, but with the increasing pressure he could feel in Taemin’s sweatpants, it seemed like he wasn’t the only one.

Especially when Jongin trailed his lips down to Taemin’s jaw, tongue licking softly over the skin until he reached the side of his neck. He let his teeth nip against the skin before sucking harder, leaving a dark bruise adorning the fair skin before moving lower, pulling the skin of Taemin’s collarbones between his teeth, listening to the high gasps coming from Taemin’s mouth at every harsh suck, every rough grip of Jongin’s hands against his hips.

Taemin was grinding their clothed erections together in a frantic motion, his hands tangling in Jongin’s hair to pull him back up and connect their lips again.

“Missed this so much,” he breathed into Jongin’s mouth, “missed _you_ so much, Jongin.”

Jongin moaned at a particularly harsh thrust before letting his hands travel to the front of Taemin’s sweatpants, pulling at the strings until they became undone. Taemin mirrored the movement with swift fingers, deftly unbuttoning Jongin’s jeans and pulling down the zipper.

“C’mon, off,” Taemin said, tugging at the seam of Jongin’s jeans, “need you so bad, Jongin.”

The way Taemin said his name, all raspy voice and passion lacing his tone, made Jongin even harder in his pants, and he pushed Taemin to get up for a moment to rid himself of his jeans, watching the other quickly remove his own sweatpants, letting them lie forgotten on the floor.

Jongin didn’t expect Taemin to drop to his knees in front of him and slide his fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

“Taemin…” he breathed, looking down at him before nearly moaning out loud when he cupped Jongin’s clothed dick in his hand and fondled it gently.

Taemin let his gaze flick back up, eyes locking onto Jongin’s as he hummed. “Wanna suck you off,” he said, voice sultry and grip on Jongin’s dick tightening.

“Fuck, okay,” Jongin said, and Taemin just smirked up at him before licking his lips and pulling down Jongin’s boxers.

Jongin sighed at the feeling of the cool air hitting the sensitive skin of his erection, eyes trained on Taemin as he formed those full lips into a sinful pout before blowing warm air over the tip of his cock, making Jongin breathe in sharply.

Taemin's fingers came to curl around him, stroking slowly, leisurely, his thumb occasionally running circles over the head, leaving Jongin to swallow down an embarrassingly high moan.

Jongin willed himself not to shut his eyes, not wanting to miss the sight of Taemin’s hand curled around his dick and his full lips hovering mere inches above the slick head. The steady stokes stopped, Taemin opting for simply holding the base of Jongin’s dick as his mouth parted more, tongue darting out to trace its tip over the sensitive skin of the head.

Jongin hissed at the sensation, his hand fisting the dark bed sheets under him as he watched Taemin’s licks grow broader. Jongin let his head loll back, throat bared and eyes shut now as his parted lips let breathy gasps fill the air around them.

Taemin moved away for just a second before letting his tongue lick a slow path from the very bottom back to the tip, tracing the prominent vein on the underside with more pressure, and Jongin’s back arched forward, a soft moan reverberating through his own ears.

Taemin chuckled quietly before taking the head of Jongin’s dick into his mouth and sucking, hollowing his cheeks and drawing another moan from Jongin. Taemin grabbed Jongin’s hand that was currently not gripping the sheets and moved it to the back of his hand, Jongin’s fingers carding through the hair almost instinctively before tangling them in the strands.

Jongin moved his head back forward and opened his eyes just to see Taemin’s gaze already locked onto him, sending a shiver through his entire body as Taemin let his mouth slide lower, taking in more and more of Jongin’s length until the head hit the back of his throat and his lips met the fingers curled around the base. Jongin tightened the hold he had on Taemin’s hair, desperately trying to quiet his moans as much as possible while Taemin moved his head back up with his slick tongue sliding along the underside of his cock.

Jongin’s breathing picked up, pleasure growing in the pit of his stomach as Taemin smiled around Jongin’s dick in his mouth before he started bobbing his head at a steady pace, sucking harsher every time he went back up. The hand resting loosely around the base moved to his balls, massaging them in a way that made Jongin’s eyes squeeze closed and his head roll to the side, deep moans leaving his parted lips.

When Taemin let his lips rest just around the head of Jongin’s cock and sucked _hard_ while digging the tip of his tongue into the slit, Jongin released a probably too loud moan, coaxing another choked off chuckle from Taemin before he went on with moving his head up and down, tongue circling the head whenever he reached it just to slide all the way down again, nose touching Jongin’s pelvis.

Jongin tugged at Taemin’s hair, receiving a pleased groan from him at the action before he sped his movements up even more, making the pleasure in Jongin grow faster and faster, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

Taemin squeezed his balls again and sucked at the head again, making direct eye contact with Jongin the whole time, and Jongin couldn’t hold back the whimper that came out of his mouth.

“Taemin- _Fuck,_ I’m so close, _so fucking close, don’t stop-,”_ he breathed, each word laced with a barely held-back moan.

Taemin smirked again, starting the fast rhythm of his head until Jongin couldn’t see anything else than Taemin’s eyes looking deeply into his own, watching every pleasure-stricken expression that crossed his face as he fell deeper and deeper into the bliss that Taemin released onto him.

His climax made his eyes fall shut and his lips part in a broken moan, head thrown back and hips shallowly thrusting into Taemin’s mouth, feeling his throat work around him as he swallowed Jongin’s release. With a few last slides of his lips and a kittenish lick over the head that caused Jongin to jerk from the oversensitivity, Taemin moved to sit back on Jongin’s lap, avoiding Jongin’s softening dick.

Jongin let go of Taemin’s hair, cradling the side of his face instead and pulling him in for a deep kiss, their tongues tangling together. Jongin could feel the heat of Taemin’s erection against his leg and decided to push it up to add more pressure to his erection, receiving a surprised moan from Taemin.

He slid Taemin’s boxers off with both hands before curling his fingers around his length, dragging his palm over the head before setting a fast rhythm, leaving Taemin moaning into his mouth with every stroke.

Jongin backed away from Taemin’s lips slightly, turning his head to trace the shell of Taemin’s ear before softly nibbling on his earlobe. “So good,” he whispered, feeling Taemin shake against him, “you feel so good, Taemin.”

Taemin whined, his hips jerking forward into Jongin’s fist hastily. Jongin’s free hand slid behind his back, nails dragging across the skin and leaving bright red lines in their wake.

“Jongin, _fuck- Jongin,_ ” Taemin gasped, tilting his head back as his moans grew in volume, leaving Jongin half-concerned about the others hearing them, though hearing Taemin chant his name in that breathy voice left him unable to think about anything else than the image presenting itself right in front of him.

“Come on, Taemin,” he rasped into Taemin’s ear, sucking against the skin just underneath it, “let go. _Come for me.”_

Taemin shuddered a final time before going still, muscles under Jongin’s finger’s tensing up and going taut as he spurted his release over both their chests and Jongin’s hand. Jongin stroked him through his high, watching the blissed-out expression on his face until Taemin whined at the oversensitivity, moving Jongin’s hand away and leaning his head down on Jongin’s shoulder.

“Good?” Jongin asked, voice quiet and laced with left-over pleasure. Taemin just let out a deep hum against Jongin’s neck, the sound vibrating through his body.

Jongin wiped them down with the tissues standing on Taemin’s bedside table before maneuvering them to lie down on the bed, legs entangled and Taemin’s breath fanning steadily over his sternum.

Taemin fumbled around behind himself before switching off the light next to the bed, leaving the room basked in darkness except for the sliver of light entering from under the door.

Taemin kept his eyes locked onto Jongin’s, gaze not faltering and smile slowly stretching over his lips.

“What?” Jongin asked lightheartedly, a smile of his own taking over his lips.

Taemin pressed their lips together, the deep kiss awkward due to their smiling but perfect nonetheless. He pulled away, eyes shining with something Jongin could only describe as-

“I love you.”

Jongin’s heart stuttered, his breath leaving him in a long exhale as he watched Taemin’s serene expression. Jongin doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this, face devoid of any worry, lips pulled into an utterly careless smile, eyes not showing a hint of hesitation, of doubt, upon saying those words, and Jongin doesn’t have to think twice – doesn’t even have to think _at all –_ before muttering a soft, “I love you, too,” into the space between them.

And there, with Taemin looking at him as if he were the stars they were gazing at all those weeks ago in the park and his soft fingers tracing meaningless patterns against the skin of his neck, Jongin let himself indulge in the promise that is Lee Taemin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> oof *wipes sweat* this was a wild ride
> 
> not only has this been my longest work ever, but also probably the angstiest story i've ever written, so i hope it's not too awful for the first time!  
> thank you so much to whoever read this, i really hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing it!  
> comments and kudos are obviously greatly appreciated, so if you've got anything to say, feel free!
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/nsftaemin)!


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